


Safety First

by K_R_Closson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, and perhaps unsuprisingly that doesn't make for a serious story, crack fic treated semi-seriously, the prompt was life jacket bondage, there is nothing of redeemable value here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_R_Closson/pseuds/K_R_Closson
Summary: Derek and Stiles have sex in a boathouse and make use of the life jackets.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skadventuretime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skadventuretime/gifts).



> There was a dare to write life jacket bondage. I should be better at turning down challenges. Because when I don't, things like this happen.

One thing about dating a werewolf is that Stiles is physically weaker than Derek. It means fun things like wall sex and being tossed around his bed and demanding that Derek carry Stiles on his back when Stiles doesn’t feel like walking anymore but it also means that Stiles doesn’t get to be in charge.

Well...not without help.

They can’t use handcuffs, because Stiles sees handcuffs and immediately thinks of his dad and...no. Just no.

Chains are out because Derek associates them with chaining up his betas for their first full moon.

Stiles brought up leather cuffs, but when he was poking around Amazon the site tried to get him to get cuffs and a collar in a bundle deal and Derek wolfed out and then went to sulk in the woods, because he thought Stiles was making a dog joke with the collar.

So what Stiles is saying is that he has to get  _ creative. _

Luckily, creative is what he does. 

“The point isn’t to find something that will hold you,” Stiles explains as they head down to the docks. “It’s to find something that reminds you to restrain yourself. You could break through just about anything which is hot, but it’ll be even hotter when you  _ don’t  _ break through your bonds, because you don’t want to.” Stiles stops. “You don’t want to, right? I mean, you do want to. Wait -”

Derek smiles, his  _ I love you even though I don’t always know why  _ smile, and puts a finger to Stiles’s lips to stop his babbling. “I want do,” he promises. “Or don’t want to.” He smiles again. “I want to see what you’ve come up with.”

“You say that now,” Stiles says, words spoken around Derek’s finger. “I don’t think you’ll be saying that once you see what I’ve actually come up with. Remember when answered the final question of my econ midterm with an essay on the history of male circumcision?” 

Derek looks wary. “I’m not longer sure I want you anywhere near my dick.”

“Cute,” Stiles says. “My point is that sometimes my brain doesn’t work in linear ways. Or logical ways. Or rational ways. My point is, don’t be disappointed if this doesn’t work out.”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” Derek says with the confidence of a guy who looks straight off the cover of like every male magazine. “We’ll do something different.”

“Right,” Stile says. “I’m just saying, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that ominous warning, Stiles tugs Derek into the boathouse. It’s more like a boat shack, really, and Stiles would worry about it killing the mood except they’ve had sex in worse places. At least Stiles thought ahead and left some blankets here so they won’t have to worry about splinters. That happened one when they tried having sex behind the gym bleachers. Nothing kills the mood like getting three inches of wood stuck in your hand.

Or maybe it had been the joke.

Derek failed to find the humor in Stiles’s comment that he wasn’t, “getting good wood” and that ended Stiles’s fantasy of sex under the bleachers.

But now they get to try a different fantasy. 

“What the fuck is that?” Derek says when Stiles pulls a life jacket off the rack of life jackets. It’s not one of the flimsy orange ones with just one strap and that feel like they’re choking you when you’re flailing in the middle of the lake. It’s a heavy duty life jacket with  _ three  _ sets of straps to hold the life jacket in place.

“It’s a life jacket.”

Derek lifts his eyes up to the ceiling like he’s praying for patience. “This isn’t going to end with us in the lake, is it?”

“Underwater sex is further down on the list.” Stiles undoes the buckles of the life jacket. “Arms at your sides.”

“That’s not how life jackets work.”

“We’re not using it as a flotation device,” Stile reminds him. “We’re using it as a restraint.”

“No,” Derek says. “You can’t.”

Stiles stills. “Is that a challenging no I can’t or an actual no I can’t?”

“We’re in a boathouse,” Derek says. “Do you know how much rope is in here?”

A slow smile stretches across Stiles’s face. Option number one then. “Be that as it may,” Stiles says, “You just said I can’t which is clearly a challenge to prove to you that I can. So. Arms at your sides.”

Derek glowers but he drops his arms to his sides and holds still as Stiles loosens the straps on the life jacket so he can buckle it around Derek. It pins his arms at his sides so all Derek can do is wiggle his fingers. Which he does. The scowl intensifies. 

“You’re very grumpy for someone about to get his dick sucked,” Stiles points out. He fiddles with the straps, tightening them, just because it’s fun to torment Derek. In a loving sort of way, of course. 

“I feel ridiculous,” Derek says.

And...yeah, it’s not the most dignified look, but Derek hasn’t told Stiles no and meant it, hasn’t used the safeword Stiles made him pick out. He’s hasn’t even gone all red-eye alpha. He’s just grumbling.

“I made sure to get a red life jacket,” Stiles says. “You know, red for the alpha? For the big bad wolf?”

A Little Red Riding Hood roleplay is also on Stiles’s ever-growing list of fantasies to try out with Derek. Stiles is waiting to bring that one up until he he’s worked on his running endurance so a chase through the woods will last long than a hundred meters. 

Derek growls, a low rumble that rattles the small shack. Stiles grins and drops to his knees with a thud and a muttered, “Ow”. But what Stiles lacks in grace he makes up for in enthusiasm, and he gets Derek’s boardshorts off with two sharp tugs.

“View from down here is pretty good,” Stiles says as Derek’s dick bobs free. He wraps his hand around the length before it can smear precome on the life jacket. That would be embarrassing to explain. 

Speaking of embarrassing things to explain… “This isn’t the best position for this,” Stiles says. “I don’t want my stellar blowjob to end with your knees buckling and you braining yourself on a canoe paddle. Can you kneel without help?”

Derek quirks his eyebrows and sinks gracefully to his knees. He smirks once he’s there, because he knows Stiles is jealous. It means Stiles is perfectly justified in giving Derek a two handed push until he’s on his back and Stiles can settle between his legs. 

Derek wiggles to get comfortable, and Stiles is reminded of a fish, flopping out of water. He’s got enough self-preservation not to say that outloud. Derek huffs, annoyed, and Stiles is afraid for a moment that werewolves have picked up telepathic abilities.

“I can’t see you,” Derek says. “The life jacket is in the way.”

Relieved that mind reading is still not a thing, Stiles pats Derek’s thigh. “Good thing you’ve got four other senses.”

“Is this going to be a lot of talking and not a lot of action?” Derek asks.

“No,” Stiles says. “You’re just throwing me off my game. Shh.”

By some miracle, Derek does shh, and now Stiles is presented with the overwhelming prospect of being able to do whatever he wants. Usually when he’s sucking Derek off, he’s got Derek’s hand in his hair guiding him or Derek’s voice in his ear telling him exactly what to do.

The point of this whole life jacket exercise was so Stiles could have free rein to do what he wants. Faced with exactly that, he doesn’t know where to start. The base? The tip? The heavy hang of Derek’s balls? 

He starts at the base where his knot would grow if werewolves had knots in their humans forms which they don’t.  _ That  _ had been a fun conversation that led to Stiles being banned from looking up sex things on the internet for three whole days. It was supposed to be a week, but Scott let Stiles use his internet after the third time Stiles dropped the phrase  _ cock sheath  _ into casual conversation. 

Stiles kisses his way up the length of Derek’s cock, and he intends to kiss his way back down because  _ symmetry _ , but he gets distracted. He flicks his tongue across the head of Derek’s cock to collect the precome that’s gathered there and once Stiles has gotten a taste he wants more. He presses his lips against the soft skin at the tip of Derek’s cock, and Derek’s hips jerk.

His cock slaps lightly at Stiles’s cheek, smearing Stiles’s own spit across his cheek. 

“Guess you need help keeping still,” Stiles says. He wraps a hand around the base of Derek’s dick to hold is steady before he kisses the tip again, featherlight, knowing it’ll drive Derek wild. 

“Stiles,” Derek groans, a rare note of pleading in his voice.

This is what power feels like, Stiles realizes. It’s someone wanting something only you’re able to give them. And then deciding whether you’re going to give it to them or not. 

“I’ve got you,” Stiles promises. “Gonna make you feel good, yeah?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he takes the tip of Derek’s dick into his mouth. He’s careful with his teeth even though Derek will like a hint of them later, when he’s so on edge that everything feels good. For now, Stiles swirls his tongue around the crown of Derek’s dick, tracing a spiral all the way to his slit then back out again. 

He does it a second time then a third until Derek’s thighs tremble against him. If it weren’t for the life jacket then Derek’s hands would be in Stiles’s hair by now, tugging tight, guiding Stiles’s mouth to exactly where Derek wants it. But Derek can’t do that right now. Stiles is free to touch and tease and explore as much as he’d like.

He slides his mouth down, takes more of Derek’s cock into his mouth until his lips bump his fist. Derek’s hips jerk again like they’re trying to get Stiles to take more, like they’re trying to  _ rush him _ .

Stiles pulls off with a wet pop.

“Be good,” he says.

Derek immediately stills and  _ oh _ , Stiles thinks.  _ Oh _ . Huh. 

Stiles goes down again, this time moving his hand so he can take Derek as deep as he can go. He pulls off to breathe and then does it again. And again and again until Stiles’s entire world has narrowed down to the heady scent of arousal and the feel of a hard cock on his tongue, in his throat. He rolls Derek’s balls in one hand and plays with the coarse hair of his thighs with his other, and Stiles loses himself for a while. 

All he knows is Derek’s dick and Derek’s balls and Derek’s thighs. Stiles lets himself try everything he’s wanted to try but Derek’s never had the patience for. He traces the vein on the underside of Derek’s dick with his fingers and then his tongue and then his lips. He sucks Derek’s balls into his mouth, one then the other then both together. 

When he finally pulls back, he’s aware of the harsh sounds of someone panting. They fill the small boathouse, and at first Stiles thinks it’s himself. And then he realizes it’s  _ Derek _ .

Stiles pushes up so he can see Derek’s face. His eyes are closed, squeezed together in a way that looks painful. His lip is pulled between his teeth to keep him from saying anything, but that doesn’t keep him quiet. Stiles looks down at Derek’s hands, nails curls against his palms like he’s trying so hard to be in control, to be  _ good _ . All because Stiles asked him to.

“Oh,” Stiles says. His fingers trail over Derek’s brows then press at the corners of Derek’s mouth. “You’ve been good for me, yeah? I’m going to put my mouth on you again. Come whenever you want, okay? I want you to.”

Derek makes a small, pained sound, and Stiles slides back down his body to make sure he’s got his mouth on Derek’s cock before he comes. He wraps his lips around the head of Derek’s cock and then jerks him off until Derek spills into his mouth, the taste bitter but familiar.

Stiles rolls onto his back on the blanket,  _ his  _ turn to breathe hard as he jerks himself off thinking about how awesome it was to get to do whatever he wanted and how still Derek was for him and how soon they can do it again. Maybe Stiles will fuck him next time he restrains Derek. 

Or maybe he’ll ride him, use Derek’s dick to make himself come over and over and over again. 

Stiles comes, messy and all over his stomach, and he holds a hand out for Derek to high five. When he doesn’t get one, Stiles turns, frowning, and then remembers that Derek’s still bound by the life jacket.

“Whoops,” Stiles says. He snaps the buckles until the life jacket falls away and smiles down at Derek. “So...uh, was that as good for you as it was for me?”

“Next time we’re not using a life jacket,” Derek says. 

Stiles grins because Derek totally wants there to be a next time. 

Boo-fucking-yah.

  
  



End file.
